


Invitation

by Firegirl210



Category: Sparks Nevada Marshal on Mars, The Thrilling Adventure Hour
Genre: Angst, Bro bonding over broken hearts, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-14 22:32:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3427952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firegirl210/pseuds/Firegirl210
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sparks and Croach get an unwelcome invitation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Invitation

_“The Marshal Station doors are open.”_

Sparks Nevada glanced up, then back down when he recognized the shape of his Martian companion. Croach entered the Marshal’s office and stopped, staring about absently. When he neither spoke nor busied himself with any task, Sparks set aside his paperwork and fixed the native with a look.

“What’r ya doin’ Croach?”

He blinked large insectoid eyes as if he had been pulled from thought, then reached into his vest and withdrew a small, neat envelope, dropping it on Nevada’s desk. It was sealed with red wax, stamped with a flowering desert cactoid.

“Did you receive a similar parcel?” He demanded.

“Don’t rightfully know--what is it?”

“An invitation.” Croach had a terseness about him that made Sparks uncomfortable--there was none of the usual easy banter about this conversation, and the air crackled with tension.

“A what now?”

“Do you receive documents and parcels designated mail here at the station?”

“Yeah, I haven’t checked yet today. Right over there,” Sparks gestured, and Croach forged his way through the doors to the collection box where the mail and paperwork collected when the deliverybots came around. Sparks picked up the little square of paper that had made his unflappable Martian so upset curiously. The seal had already been broken, and the thick smooth paper came out only after he applied some force and finagling.

 

**_You are herewith invited_ **

**_to the wedding of_ **

**_Cactoid Jim_ **

**_and_ **

**_The Red Plains Rider_ **

****

He didn’t get to the date and location before he closed it, as if by putting it facedown on the desk he could forget what he’d read there. Croach was back, holding an identical package, and they looked at each other with shared disbelief.

Croach placed the creamy paper on the desk and sat across from Sparks without a word, and they stared at the pair, equally at a loss. It didn’t seem fitting, something so clean and soft representing Red.

“So...Cactoid Jim huh?” Sparks finally said with a half-hearted laugh. “Guess we coulda seen it comin’.”

“I suppose you are correct. The two share similar personal interests and compatible anatomy.”

“Guess they do. Better match than you’n her, that’s for sure.”

“Much, much better match than your coupling would have been, had it occurred.”

“Barely better.”

“I would disagree.”

“Well I didn’t ask you.”

They glared at the incriminating invitations, a slap in the face and a very insensitive way to tell them wrapped up in one.

“Think she sent ‘em to us? Or do you think it was Jim’s idea?”

“I do not know, Sparks Nevada.”

Sparks pushed away from his desk and went to the window, removing his hat to rake his fingers through his hair. Croach joined him after a moment, and they gazed out at the sun-baked landscape they called home.

“Think yer gonna go?”

“I do not know. I do not believe I wish to do so, although my thoughts are admittedly conflicted at the current time.”

“You mean yer feelin’s?”

“Thoughts is what I said and what I meant, Sparks Nevada, I do not experience human emo--”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he cut the Martian short, and sighed shortly. “It was probably a courtesy invite. She doesn’t really think we’re comin’, I’d guess.”

“It does sound like an event you and I would not enjoy attending.”

“Well yeah. I mean she prob’ly wouldn’t want us there anyway.”

“You believe she would not?”

The sun began to sink behind the sheared tops of the plateaus in the distance, painting the red land gold, and they tried not to be reminded of the fiery woman who was moving out of their reach for good.

“I reckon we’d just ruin the party,” Sparks decided, giving Croach a clap of camaraderie on the shoulder. The Martian nodded, experiencing, no doubt, the human emotion designated heartache. The Marshal certainly was.

“Better we let her go.”

 

 


End file.
